


Christmas, Love

by BloodEnvy



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Christmas Smut, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Smut, because i'm a child, christmas pic, christmas porn, sex with santa hats on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15261966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEnvy/pseuds/BloodEnvy
Summary: Set between "Wrecked" and "Gone".The Buffybot volunteered to host the PTA’s Christmas Party during Parent-Teacher day. Dawn invites Spike, hoping he’ll prove as much of a distraction to Buffy as he did during her own Parent-Teacher Night.





	Christmas, Love

“Well, someone’s got to do it.” Buffy eye-rolled, lifting a stack of plates over her head as she slipped around Willow. The redhead backed out of the way, and Buffy handed the plates off to Dawn. Turning the knob on the oven to preheat, she slipped back around Willow to the vegetables she’d left on the counter.

“I don’t see why we have to do this at all.” Willow grumbled, attempting to separate an egg’s yolk from the white.

“Because the ‘bot volunteered you, is why,” Spike smirked from his perch on the counter next to Buffy. She shot him an amused look, before catching herself and busying herself with the cream measurements for the bake she was making. The anti-Spike bedroom trick had lasted all of two nights before he’d caught up with her on patrol and they’d ended up doing it against the wall of a crypt. Since then, he’d found ways to catch up to her, around the Magic Box or on patrol. And she hardly argued anymore. They both knew she’d cave in the end.

“How were we supposed to know Buffybot was going to sign us up?” Willow protested as Dawn came bustling in for napkins.

“Well, that’s what you get for getting a robot to take my place while I’m all dead and stuff.” Buffy said, her tone teasing. It sounded strained though, even to her. She cleared her throat, and brushed the hair falling out of her bun out of her eyes. She was trying to be happy-Buffy, but she was nowhere near the Brady Bunch lifestyle the Buffybot had inadvertently set up for her. She felt Spike’s eyes on her at her comment, and she glanced at him briefly before fixing her gaze determinedly on what she was doing. He looked too concerned for her to be comfortable with it.

“We only sent her to Parent’s Day!”

Dawn raised an eyebrow. “Where she volunteered for hostess-duty for the PTA Christmas party.”

“Well, why didn’t you stop her?”

“I could barely drag her away from a diorama!” Dawn argued. “You’re the one who programmed her to be super-surrogate!”

Willow grumbled under her breath, and Buffy shot her little sister an amused smile. She grinned back.

“Personally, I just wish they would have called to confirm sooner than the day of the party.” Buffy pointed out.

“I return baring many adult-friendly snack foods and—“ Xander stopped in the doorway, arms laden with groceries. Dawn moved to help unload him. “Why’s he here?”

Spike smirked from the counter as Willow offered the brunette a shrug.

“I invited him.” Dawn told him.

“Why, do you need a Santa?” Xander asked, frowning. Off the others confused looks, he gestured to his own head. “Because of the hair!”

“I might have the colours, droopy, but you’ve got the build.” Spike shot back. Buffy gave him a warning look, which he curled his tongue at. She forced herself to ignore it.

“I invited him because you won’t be here,” Dawn interjected before Xander could retort. “You and Anya are getting all wedding-y, so I figured we could use the extra help.”

“And it’s got nothing to do with the fact that having Spike here will keep Buffy from paying attention to anything bad any teachers that turn up have to say.” Willow said, wryly.

Buffy started coughing, indicating to the sink and grabbing a glass when Xander looked at her questioningly.

“He was a big distraction at Buffy’s Parent-Teacher Night.” The littlest Summers pointed out with a shrug. “I figured a little mayhem might help.”

Spike chuckled. “I do what I can, Nibblet.”

 

* * * * * * *

 

Buffy fixed her hair absently, wondering if letting it hang in waves around her shoulders was a bad idea. She was trying to look the part of the responsible parent-figure here. She smiled at Dawn as she and Willow mingled with the teachers and parents crowding her living room. They’d rearranged the furniture, laden tables with snacks, put on a mix of soft pop music on the C.D. player, and decorated the living and dining rooms into something Buffy really hoped resembled a Christmas party suitable for adults.

She’d changed into a red wrap dress with a frilled hem, and she touched the sash nervously. Everyone looked like they were having a good time. Xander had stocked them up with Christmas crackers and decorations; lights and tinsel twinkled almost cloying around the room, and several people sported paper crowns or Santa hats. She smiled at an elderly gentleman as he raised his glass to her, turning to fiddle with the food on the dining table.

“Careful, pet. ‘Think the old geezer might have taken a liking to you.”

Buffy glanced over her shoulder with a well-practised eye roll, shrugging him away as his shoulder brushed up against her back. He stepped to the side, leaning over the table in a similar manner to hers, bringing their faces close together.

“But then again, you have always liked them older.” He smirked.

Buffy shot him a cold look, keeping her volume down. “I prefer a man with muscle tone.” Spike’s smile grew. “And a soul.” And it faded. “So one out of two ain’t bad. Why are you still here, Spike? No, wait, scratch that. Why are you here, period?”

“Nibblet invited me.” He reminded her.

Buffy gave him a pointed glare. “And because Dawn asked you, you decided to subject yourself to a night of wine and ‘my-kid-is-going-to-be-on-the-honour-roll-more-than-yours’?”

He simply shrugged, letting his eyes wander down her neckline, where the combination of her dress’ cut and the way she leaning over the table revealed her cleavage. Buffy straightened hastily, smiling awkwardly at a man in his late forties as he passed… Dawnie’s science teacher? Or English? Either way, he glanced between the two blondes before making his way back into the throng of people in the other room.

“Get out.”

“Slayer—“ Buffy made a shushing noise. Spike corrected himself. “Buffy…”

“No. I don’t need you here.” Buffy said, turning away from him. Carrying a half-empty bowl to the kitchen, she sighed as he followed her. Setting it on the counter, she turned to face him, gasping when she realised how close he was.

“You might not need me here, Slayer.” His voice was gruff, low as he closed the small distance between them, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of her, trapping her. He’d forgone the t-shirt for a black button-down and jeans. There was a heavy silver chain around his neck, visibly between the open buttons at the top of his shirt. He was wearing the usual duster. He moved in so their noses almost touched. “But you want me.”

“Not here.” Buffy said defiantly.

He smirked, tongue curled against his teeth and head tilted to the side. “Here…” Their noses brushed in a teasing whisper of an eskimo kiss. “…In my crypt…” Her eyes fluttered closed as his breath tickled her jawline. “…In the alley behind the Bronze…” His mouth moved to whisper in her ear. “…In the ruins of an old building we brought down with that one… desperate… thrust…” She shivered. One of his hands ghosted fingertips over her stomach. His lips brushed against hers as he whispered: “You want me everywhere.”

Buffy pushed him away, making him stumble slightly. Straightening her dress, she flipped hair over her shoulder and turned her back on him. Filling the bowl she’d brought in with crisps, she said, in a business-like tone, “Upstairs. Two minutes. Be quiet.”

She could hear him snickering as he left the room.

It made her both kind of want to punch him and kiss him.

She shrugged. She could always do both.

Heading back into the main room, she put the bowl back on the table and glanced up the stairs. Her guests were all busy mingling, and no one seemed to be missing her. So they probably wouldn’t even notice if she—

“Buffy!” The blonde startled, freezing with her foot on the first step. Willow was looking at her with wide, worried eyes. “You okay?”

Buffy gave her a smile she hoped passed as tired. It might have come out guilty and self-hating, but that’d probably work too. “I’m fine. I just… I just need a few minutes.” She looked out at the group in the living room, watching Dawn smile awkwardly at something one of the parents was saying. She should be down there backing her sister up, and instead she was sneaking off to… she glanced up the stairs. “Just… too many people, you know?”

Willow gave her a guilty frown, nodding. Part of Buffy felt terrible making her best friend feel that way, but some other part of her felt a sort of grim satisfaction for the fact that she was suffering because of what she did. “Yeah, you should… take a break. Dawnie and I can handle it. If there’s some kind of chips-and-dip fiasco, we’ll let you know.”

Buffy gave her a small smile, before turning and hurrying up the stairs, eager to get away from the redhead’s concerned eyes.

“Thought you were going to bloody stand me up.”

Buffy sighed as the door clicked shut behind her, locking it. Spike was lying on her bed, one leg hanging off the end and the other bent, foot planted on the edge, pillows propped under his head. One hand was in his lap. And he was smirking at her. Damn it.

Adopting a prim tone, she raised an eyebrow. “How long did it take you to decide on that pose?”

“About half the time it took you to get up here,” He replied easily, standing up and moving towards her.

“I should be,” Buffy told him as he backed her up against the wall.

“What?” His head was cocked to the side, a hungry look in his eyes. His fingers travelled from her hip along the sash to find the knot holding her dress closed.

“Leaving you up here. I should be down there.” Her eyes closed as his breath slid against her cheek.

“What? Down there with those people? Don’t you see you don’t belong there? Not with them.” His fingers loosened the knot and the dress fell open. He didn’t touch her and her breath became shallow, more desperate. “You belong here. With me.”

“I can’t stand you up, either,” Buffy said brokenly. “We don’t have anything here that… that makes it stand-y.”

“You sure?” Spike’s fingertips brushed over her stomach and she arched towards him. “Tell me this doesn’t make you feel anything.” His hand moved up to ghost against the skin at the bottom edge of her bra. “And I’ll walk out of here, right now.”

“Shut up.” Buffy kissed him, forcing her frustrations onto his lips, her teeth grazing his bottom one. He groaned immediately, hands pinching her waist under the open dress. The door creaked, and she shoved him backwards following him as he fell back onto the bed. Straddling his hips, she kissed him again, pushing her tongue into his mouth.

Spike’s left hand went to her chest, tugging the bra cup to the side to palm her breast, teasing the nipple. His other hand slid over her thigh, her backside, the curve of her lower back… anything he could reach, bunching the dress up against her skin. She pulled it off without breaking the kiss, grinding her hips against him and swallowing the resulting groan. Her bra followed suit. He fisted her hair and Buffy braced her hands on the mattress, gripping at the duvet. She moved to kiss the side of his throat, and Spike’s neck arched back as he growled. She could feel the sound under her lips. So she bit his adam’s apple.

“Fuck, Slayer…”

“Shut up.” Buffy repeated, clasping a hand over his mouth as she sat up to shrug off the rest of her dress, never ceasing in the rolling of her hips. He licked her hand, sucked a finger into his mouth and damn near made her come from the way he swirled his tongue around it. She moaned, too loud to be okay in their current situation, and she stifled it by biting her lip.

Spike grinned proudly and she sent him a withering look, all the while continuing the roll of her hips against his. She could feel the zipper and harsh material of his jeans through the thin material of her underwear, and she let her head roll back. He was rising up to meet her movement, and she hastily unbuttoned his shirt. She raked her fingernails over his stomach.

The headboard was hitting the wall, louder and louder as their grinding became steadily more fervent, both of them desperate for friction. Buffy slowed slightly, glancing at it warily. Spike sent it an accusatory glare before grabbing her arms and pushing her to the side, rolling them off of the bed to land on top of her. They hit the floor with a thud, and they froze for barely a moment before he was attacking her mouth again with his, his hand gripping her shoulder a little too tight.

He pushed his hips against hers, spreading her legs wider. She fought to touch his chest, the back of his neck, and he pulled away long enough to struggling out of his duster, flinging it onto the bed. Buffy grabbed his shirt by the collar before he could pull it off, bringing his mouth back to hers.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as she reached down to open his jeans. She shoved his pants down his thighs and he pushed her panties to the side… both of them ignored the fact that they ripped as his fingers found her clit. She arched against him almost immediately, desperate for him to increase the pressure. She gripped his shoulders, grinding against his hand, the carpet rubbing harshly on her back.

“Fucking… fuck, Spike.” Buffy gasped, running a hand down his torso to wrap it around the base of his cock. Spike moaned, low in his throat, and Buffy bit his neck lightly. She ran her hand up the length of him, squeezing lightly at the base as she reached it again. She guided him to her as his hand moved to grip her hips, and she let the head slide against her clit a few times before he angled his hips and pushed inside.

They moaned in unison, their foreheads touching for a moment as they began to rock, his cock sliding in and out of her. She was still so tight. Spike’s head fell to her throat, his lips grazing her neck. He bit her collarbone, squeezed her left breast. Buffy thrust against him urgently.

“I told you,” Spike whispered against her neck, his cool breath tickling her ear, making her sigh. “You don’t… belong down there. You— fuck— you belong with me.”

Buffy groaned, fisting the hair at the nape of his neck in her hand. “We… we really shouldn’t be doing this…” She almost giggled as Spike’s speed increased. “I’m supposed to be... uh… at a Christmas party… fuck!” She bit his forearm to stifle her shout. Spike grinned as her teeth dug into his skin, and he angled his hips to push deeper inside for a single thrust before pulling out.

“Hey! Wh—“ Buffy protested, correcting her volume hastily.

Spike reached for the bed, grabbing his duster. He sat with his back against it, completely unconcerned by his nudity. Buffy whimpered, running a hand down her body. She could feel the burns of the carpet on her back, her breath almost as harsh.

“Who says it’s not a Christmas party up here too?” He smirked at her, and pulled a Santa hat out of the pocket of his duster and holding it up. Buffy rolled to a kneel, and crawled to him, slowly, her pussy aching and empty. She could feel the wetness on her inner thighs.

She reached him with a coquettish smile, pushing the duster off his lap and wrapped her lips around the tip of his erection. Spike groaned, his hips rising. Buffy lowered her head, letting her tongue slide over his length as her hand pumped the base. She sucked hard as she pulled back up, her head finding its own rhythm. She smiled as Spike began to murmur a mixture of praise and curses.

She started slightly as something fell lightly on her head, and hummed in amusement as she realised Spike had put the Santa hat on her. She could feel the pom-pom on the end bat against the side of her face lightly with each bob of her head.

She swirled her tongue around the tip before she released him again, moving up his body to kneel over his lap. “Why did you even have this?” She tipped her head slightly to indicate the hat, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other hand guiding his cock into her again. “Ooooh….” She let out a long, drawn-out moan as she took him in, inch by inch.

“The… nibblet gave it to me.” He replied, his hands gripping at her waist. “Spirit of the season and all that rot.” Buffy shivered at the rasp of his voice. That had to be one of the best sounds in the world, the deep, almost throaty tone his voice took on during sex. His voice always hinted at it when he was fighting, but now, there was this passion and concentration and… animalistic quality that just made her quiver.

“And you hung onto it?” She asked brokenly as she rose and fell on his lap.

He managed a shrug, his forehead dropping to rest on her chest. His nose brushed the side of her breast. “Are you complaining?” His tongue lathed the skin of her cleavage. His hand squeezed her hip, the left one sliding around to stroke the small of her back.

Buffy bit her lip, head tilting back as Spike moved his hips to meet hers. They brushed against her inner thighs every time he did, tickling the sensitive skin there. The pom-pom tapped against her forehead, and she glanced up at it, considering it. And then she smiled, pulling it off her head. “Not now, I’m not.”

And she dropped it on his head.

Spike laughed, loudly, and Buffy brought his mouth to her chest to shut him up. Well, partly for that. Spike immediately latched on to her left breast, and Buffy quickened her pace on his lap. Her hips rolled against his, her clit brushing against his pelvis. She gripped at his shoulder, fingernails digging into his skin. Her other hand held him fast against her breast, fingers clenched around his hair and the hat. Spike growled with pleasure as she tugged, her teeth clenched to hold back a moan.

Spike’s hand gripped her arse, and the bed slid across the carpet slightly as Buffy’s thrusts shoved Spike’s back against it. She jerked his head back and exposed his neck, lowering her mouth to it and running her tongue teasingly along the long-dead pulse point. Spike groaned, his grip bruising her hip. He reached up to brush hair away from her eyes, as she moved to kiss him again, and her rhythm faltered slightly.

Buffy leaned back as she felt her orgasm begin to break, and Spike did something completely unexpected with a smirk on his face.

He stuck his thumb in her arse.

Buffy came with a shout, burying her face in the curve of his neck a second too late. She bit down hard as her hips shuddered and convulsed, and she managed to clamp her hand over Spike’s mouth as he roared his release. His chest heaved against hers as the second wave hit her, his fingers sliding over her torso to tease her clit gently.

Their lips met a few more times as they came down, tongues sliding against each other languidly. In the short time they’d been sleeping together, this was one Spike’s favourite parts. Right after she’d come, right before she came to her senses and kicked him to the curb, insisting it wasn’t going to happen again. When she kissed him and touched him with something different from the naked lust and need she had before and during the sex. When it was real… for her.

The hat finally lost its balance on Spike’s head, and Buffy pulled away with a little giggle as it fell onto their faces. She touched the marks she’d left on his shoulder and neck, both from her nails and her teeth. A blush coloured her cheeks. Spike’s arms loosened slowly from where they were wrapped around her waist.

“You’re washing that thumb.”

Spike smirked. “Don’t act like you didn’t love it.”

Buffy carefully extricated herself from his lap, standing on shaky legs. “That’s…. not the point.”

He laughed quietly, standing and passing her her dress as she reached for tissues, throwing several to him.

“You know, you really are making a habit of distracting me from school events.” Buffy noted, getting a fresh pair of underwear out.

“Happy to be of service,” Spike tucked himself into his jeans. “Not those ones. Wear the black ones.” Buffy paused with them halfway up her legs, giving him a confused look. “With the lace.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, but dropped them and dug out the requested panties from the drawer. He nodded his approval as he watched her dress, buttoning his own shirt.

They both jumped as someone knocked on the door. With a panicked look, Buffy began to hastily tidy her hair, gesturing for Spike to move out of the door’s line of sight. She opened it, taking a deep, steadying breath as she did. “Dawnie? What’s the matter?”

“I just wanted to check on you.” Dawn replied worriedly, tucking her own hair behind her ear.

“I’m fine. I’ll be down in a second.” Buffy gave her sister a slightly-too-wide smile, blocking the doorway with her body.

“Have you seen Spike?”

“Oh!” Buffy forced herself not to glance in his direction. “He, uh… he offered to run patrol. Too many… old geezers for his tastes, I think.” She heard the tiniest chuckle come from the other side of the room.

Dawn frowned, disappointed. “Oh. I wanted him to meet my English teacher. He wanted to meet the guy who helped me actually get Shakespeare.”

“Spike knows Shakespeare? He helped you with Shakespeare?” Buffy said disbelievingly. “When did that happen?”

“While you were… When he was watching me for Willow.”

Buffy nodded, her stomach tightening slightly. “I’m sure he’ll be back.” She assured her sister. “Let’s go downstairs.”

Dawn stopped her sister as she tried to usher her toward the stairs. “Uh, Buffy? You might want to see the mirror first. You have serious bedhead.”

Spike was leaning against the window sill when Buffy closed the door again, watching her with amusement. “I wouldn’t listen to her, pet. You should wear your hair like that all the time.”

Buffy grimaced at her reflection and then at him. Grabbing a brush, she gestured towards the window behind him. “Looks like you’re making the advanced exit.” When he didn’t move, continuing to watch her with his head tilted, she rolled her eyes. “Just wait a little while then come in through the kitchen.”

“Come here.”

“What?”

Spike raised a hand to her slightly. “Come here.”

Buffy hesitated a moment stepping into him, letting him take hold of her hand. He pulled her against his body, between his legs, and she shivered as his eyes met hers. His free hand wrapped around her hips, and he kissed her again. The genuineness of it surprised her slightly, and she pulled away after a few moments. Their fingers had interlaced.

“What was that?” She let go of his hand, watching him climb out the window.

He leaned back through to give her a knowing smile.

“Merry Christmas, love.”


End file.
